


Pas Là

by jesuisfarouche



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, mostly just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisfarouche/pseuds/jesuisfarouche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I won't be kind," he says, his voice low in his throat. "I won't speak love to you."</p>
<p>"I am not concerned."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pas Là

Grantaire has found lately that very little surprises him anymore. 

It isn't that unexpected things don't ever happen to him. Rather, he has learned that there is much beyond his control. Allowing those things to throw him off was quite pointless, really. Best to shrug it off, or sleep it off. Or drink it off. 

What does surprise him, however, is the knocking on his door at far too late an hour to expect any visitors. 

He was about to throw himself into bed when he heard it, polite and soft but present nonetheless. At first he thought he had simply imagined it, still taken by a light haze of wine from the night's earlier adventures. Grantaire shakes his head to clear his thoughts and tugs his shirt hem from its tucked position in his trousers. He's about to pull his shirtsleeves over his head when the knocking repeats itself.

Hesitantly he takes a few steps to the door. He considers grabbing some blunt object on the way in order to protect himself, but shrugs off the idea. Robbers and murderers don't normally knock politely, he reminds himself.

The door unbolted, he pulls it open slowly and inhales sharply at the sight of Jean Prouvaire about to knock a third time. He stands there, looking as if there was nothing odd about his presence outside Grantaire's rooms at nearly two-thirty in the morning, despite never having visited previously.

"Prouvaire? What are you doing here?"

"May I come in?"

A sigh, a shrug, and Grantaire opens the door wide enough for Jehan to enter. The candles are still lit, casting a faint glow on the walls and the floor. 

Grantaire shuts the door without bolting it. Jehan turns back toward him, and after receiving a questioning look from Grantaire, explains simply, "I received your address from Bahorel. I hope you don't mind."

What an odd young man was Jean Prouvaire. "No, Jehan, I don't mind. Care to explain the reason for the late-night visit?"

Prouvaire smiles slightly. "Early morning, rather, Grantaire. And...ah..." He falters.

Grantaire is suddenly reminded of earlier in the night, at the meeting at the Musain. Jehan had caught him staring. It wasn't anything new--Grantaire had found himself rather intrigued by the young man as of late, if only to compare him to that which he truly desired. He was younger, yes, had a smaller build, dustier hair, rounder facial features. He was pretty, but not as pretty. But he was very, very pretty.

And Grantaire understands. "Jehan, you do not want this." You do not want me.

"How do you know what I want?"

"Because I have seen the way your eyes turn to Courfeyrac. I've watched you watch him, and I have seen how he doesn't see you." 

Jehan takes a timid step towards Grantaire. He doesn't respond to his words, and instead removes his coat and lets it drop to the floor. Grantaire's heart begins to pound at the way Jehan's eyes stare up into his. 

Delicate, lithe fingers work over waistcoat buttons as Jehan continues to stare. Grantaire, never letting his eyes stray, reaches back and bolts the door. 

"I won't be kind," he says, his voice low in his throat. "I won't speak love to you."

"I am not concerned." Jehan's waistcoat falls to the floor, draped on top of his coat.

"I will not be gentle."

Jehan takes another step to Grantaire, so close now he could feel his breath hot on his face. "If I wanted someone gentle, Grantaire, I would not be here."

Grantaire snaps. He reaches forward and grabs Jehan around the waist, pulling him towards him and snaking one hand in that blond hair and pulling his head back so he can reach the sweet skin of the young man's neck. There he holds him and lets his mouth graze over Jehan's collarbone, biting and sucking soft bruises into his flesh. For that he earns a low moan from Prouvaire's lips, a moan that sends Grantaire's blood rushing downwards. He pulls away momentarily and moves towards Jehan's lips, but he is stopped with a firm hand. 

"No," Jehan says, his voice all but a growl. "Not there."

Grantaire does not mind. He pulls his shirtsleeves over his head and Jehan does the same. He looks down at the body before him, thin but solid, the candles casting shadows over his chest. Grantaire wants to sink his teeth into every part of Jehan, and so he does, pushing the younger man back, back towards the mattress. 

A firm hand shoves Jehan down and Grantaire works on the fall of his trousers with shaking hands while Jehan moves to his knees in front of him. The sight of that boy, bathed in candlelight, looking up at him with hunger in his eyes, is almost enough to make Grantaire spill himself right then and there.

Jehan swats Grantaire's hands away, deeming them too tedious, and finishes the job for him. His eyes move from Grantaire's to the erection standing before him, and he swallows in anticipation and fear at the girth of it. 

If Grantaire has one thing in his life to be absolutely proud of, it is the size of his cock.

He puts a hand on the back of Jehan's head and moves him forward. With one hand on Grantaire's hip and the other moving to gently grip the base of the large cock in front of his face, Jehan takes the head of it into his mouth and being to suck.

Everything is stars and warmth and wetness. Grantaire's head tips back and he groans, twisting fingers through Jehan's hair and pulling him further, pushing himself deeper into that sweet, lovely mouth. Jehan gags and Grantaire moans, the feeling of the head of his cock on the back of the boy's throat sending a jolt of pleasure through his hips and down to his toes.

He pushes his hips forward and thrusts deeper still into Jehan's mouth, pulling on his hair again, and once his nose touches the soft curls at the base, he holds him there a few moments. Jehan is trying to gag, trying to cough and wants to pull his head away, but Grantaire does not let him. Instead he leans forward in an attempt to force more of his length past the boy's lips. 

Jehan pushes against Grantaire's hip and grabs at one of the hands in his hair and finally pulls himself away. He sucks in cool air, Grantaire's hands still snaked around his soft blonde girls, a bead of saliva connecting his lower lip to the head of Grantaire's cock.

They stare at each other for a few moments, both panting and achingly aroused. Grantaire releases Jehan's hair from his grasp. "Your trousers...remove them," he commands through heavy breaths, and Jehan immediately obeys.

Grantaire is on him then, pushing him into the mattress, sucking bruises harsher than earlier onto the boy's neck and shoulders. Jehan has taken him into hand and strokes him eagerly as Grantaire's teeth catch a nipple and bite down. He cries out, half in pain, half in ecstasy, and squeezes his grip on Grantaire, who groans into Jehan's skin.

"I'm going to fuck you, Prouvaire," Grantaire tells him, and Jehan shudders in delight at the filth he's hearing. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you cannot speak, cannot beg."

Jehan grabs a fistful of hair atop Grantaire's head and pulls him away from his neck. "Get on with it, then."

Grantaire wants to slap him, he wants to grab Jehan by the jaw and ruin him, but instead he leaves the mattress and returns momentarily, his hand covered in olive oil, stroking his prick slowly. "Get on your knees."

Jehan obeys. Grantaire continues to stroke his cock, his free hand grazing over Jehan's ass. He grabs and smacks and earns little gasps from the younger man, each one reaching his ears and sending jolts of pleasure straight to his cock. With the oil remaining on his hand he circles a finger around Jehan's opening, and with no other preparation, begins to breach him.

Jehan cries out, and Grantaire grabs one of his ass cheeks with one hand, digging his fingernails into the soft skin there. The other hand grips the base of his cock, pushing it in slowly as Jehan's muscles clench in response.

"Open up for me, Jehan," Grantaire purrs, his free hand now running up Jehan's side and down his thigh. He continues to push his cock in, and Jehan clenches his eyes shut and grabs at the bed sheets in desperation. It is a wonderful burn, a terribly lovely stretch, and he cannot form words and he cannot think of anything other than Grantaire's cock pushing into him and tearing him apart.

Grantaire pulls himself out to the tip, then pushes back in. Both men gasp, and Grantaire begins to push in and pull out of Jehan in earnest, each thrust digging deeper into the boy, who finally lets himself open up to the intrusion.

Jehan lets out a long sigh, and Grantaire feels him relax around his cock. This is very, very good, this is so good and so tight and so hot, and he digs both hands into Jehan's hips and fucks him quicker.

As Grantaire may have guessed of Jehan, the boy is not quiet in bed. He moans and cries out and gasps each time that large cock pushes into him. Grantaire is relatively quiet, enjoying the tightness around him, loving how Jehan is positively melting under him. He wants him to hurt, and he wants him to cry out, and he is pleased and aroused when both of those things occur.

He is very close to the edge, and grabs Jehan's hair in one hand and pulls his head up to arch his back. Grantaire pushes in deeper still, and the sound of flesh slapping onto flesh and Jehan's ecstatic cries are becoming drowned out by the sound of his blood pumping and Grantaire is suddenly coming, burying himself inside Jehan and spilling in spurts as waves of pleasure overtake him.

He remains there, inside of Jehan, as the younger man strokes at his own cock, clenching his muscles around Grantaire once again, and bringing himself to completion almost immediately. His head drops down and hits the mattress, and Grantaire pulls himself out, wiping his slick hand on the bed sheet.

They lay there for several moments, breathing hard and coming down. Grantaire breaks the silence, "You can stay the night, if you wish."

Jehan does not say anything in reply, but rather pulls himself up closer to Grantaire and curls his body around him. It is a good place to be, under Grantaire's outstretched arm, his head on his chest and one leg over one of Grantaire's. Neither of them have any complaints about it.

"We're not going to speak of it again," Jehan says decidedly after several minutes like this. Grantaire silently agrees. 

As Jehan falls asleep, however, Grantaire sneaks one light kiss to the boy's sweat-slicked forehead, and he does not feel ashamed of it.


End file.
